


Date — noun; a romantic appointment or engagement

by tabris



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Dates, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5715337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabris/pseuds/tabris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the course of dinner, Danny tries to keep score.</p><p>By dessert (a gigantic pineapple-infested confection he would swear he hates even on pain of death) he's got a running tally of seven for 'Not A Date' and eighteen for 'Holy Shit It <i>Is</i> A Date'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Date — noun; a romantic appointment or engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ivycross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivycross/gifts).



> For the lovely ivycross. I tried to fit three of your prompts into this and managed to get two of them in. It was a ton of fun writing for you, and I hope you enjoy your fic!

When Steve first tells Danny he wants to take him to this restaurant outside of Honolulu that's one of his favorite places on the island, Danny's first thought is that it's another of Steve's never-ending attempts to get him to actually _like_ Hawaii. Then he realizes he's ninety-nine percent sure he's heard Rachel complaining that they were always packed and that even Stan hadn't been able to get them to make a reservation. He can't help the fleeting but entirely too hopeful thought that this might be Steve's way of asking him out.

If Steve hadn't spent weeks after Catherine's departure getting all mopey and then becoming practically incapable of keeping his hands off of Danny the thought probably never would have crossed his mind. Well, that and the wishful thinking he'd absolutely trained himself out of but refused to completely go away.

So when Steve pulls in to pick him up and Danny climbs into the truly ridiculous cab only to be greeted by the sight of Steve in not-a-polo-or-tee and not-cargo-pants, he blinks, mentally checks off a mark under 'Maybe a Date', and proceeds head-first into a rant about trucks that need steps to climb into.

Steve just grins brightly, which does not in any way make Danny's heart do a somersault, and shoves Danny playfully in the shoulder.

"Aw, don't worry about it. Grace'll be tall enough to not need it soon enough and we can always get you heels."

"You think you're funny, huh? Let me tell you a thing or two about the advantages of a lower of center of gravity, my friend."

If Danny has to keep all the _really_ fun advantages off his face the whole way to the restaurant that's nobody's business but his own. And Steve's, if this actually is a date.

 

By the time they make it to the restaurant, Danny's somehow feeling simultaneously keyed-up and incredibly relaxed and it strikes him as about par for the course around Steve. Great.

The guy who greets them at the door has arms the size of tree trunks and when he swings one widely to clap Steve on the back, Danny seriously expects to have to peel Steve off the floor.

Apparently Steve's expecting it and neither falls nor stumbles, but Danny gloats a little inside when he notices Steve bracing his knees.

_That's right, lower center of gravity comes in handy, huh?_

Steve spreads his own not-unimpressive arm to indicate Danny.

"Hey man, how've you been? This is my partner, Danny."

Danny's hand disappears in a massive fist as he's dragged in for a back-slapping and suffocating greeting.

"All right, kid. This who you've been blowing up the islands with? Him and Kelly? Any time I wonder why I haven't seen you around all I gotta do is turn on the news. You guys keep busy!"

"In my defense I'm usually the one yelling at him to _stop blowing up the island_ but he never seems to listen."

"Never has, has he?" the guy says, booming with laughter, this time a joking elbow to Steve's gut sending him a good foot sideways.

Danny smirks. "Coulda told you that within two minutes of meeting the guy."

Steve's cheeks are taking on a decidedly pink tint. It's kind of adorable. Mostly it just makes Danny want to bug this guy for embarrassing stories.

"I take it you've known each other for a while then."

"You could say that."

"Coach here used to teach football and Chemistry until he got it into his head to try to make food."

"Never trust a skinny chef! Words to live by, kid," he advises, leading them to a cosy table in the corner of the restaurant next to a window with one hell of a view.

Not that Danny would admit it. 

As Coach heads back towards the kitchen, he gives Danny a knowing wink.

Okay, then, one more for the 'Looking Like A Date' side.

 

Over the course of dinner, Danny tries to keep score.

By dessert (a gigantic pineapple-infested confection he would swear he hates even on pain of death) he's got a running tally of seven for 'Not A Date' and eighteen for 'Holy Shit It _Is_ A Date'.

In the 'Still Best Buds' column he's got Steve insisting on the goddamn dessert, 'forgetting' his wallet (Coach refuses to let them pay, citing Five-0's continued entertainment value), asking how Rachel's doing (within the context of asking about Grace but still), pointing out the waitress' attempts at flirting with Danny, flirting with said waitress himself, spending a good fifteen minutes towards the end of the night reminiscing with Coach, and playfully shoving Danny towards a rain puddle in the race to the truck after dinner amid a torrential downpour (admittedly that one could go either way with Steve).

In the 'Oh Fuck Kono's Never Letting This Go' column he's got, among other things, Steve ordering wine instead of beer, ignoring the incredibly sketchy suspect they'd interviewed a few weeks ago sitting across the room in favor of conversation, leaving his phone in his pocket the whole time even though Danny can hear it buzz at least half a dozen times, _smiling_ at Danny's increasingly tangential diatribes, and laying off the flirting and eventually telling the waitress that she reminds him of his sister. Not to mention that if Danny were to count each of Steve's lingering touches individually there's a distinct likelihood his tally would be in the triple digits.

If he thought Cath could get text messages wherever the hell she is right now, Danny wonders if she'd tell him that Steve really is that awful at dates or just laugh until next year.

 

There are two seconds between the sudden front tire deflation and Steve's truck smashing into and then _through_ the highway railing. Danny spends them both cursing Hawaii for building raised highways over dense jungle instead of razing it all and laying down concrete like every sane state does.

Their momentum is arrested by a lucky combination of concrete and rebar, and when the world stops spinning Danny recognizes their precarious position just in time for the driver's side of the truck to tilt downward at an angle that has Danny instinctively grabbing at Steve's chest.

Steve, who isn't grabbing back.

Steve, who isn't responding in any way and who has a dark smear of what can only be blood covering the left side of his forehead.

A part of Danny's mind shuts off and training takes over.

Check for a pulse — weak but there.

Get to safety — solid ground, outside the truck, need to climb out the passenger side.

Wind gusts slam into the truck and Danny can hear the rebar outside groan then crack as loud as a gunshot. They only drop a few inches, but the already mangled driver's door pops open to reveal a black, wet fall to nowhere.

Danny shoves a bubble of panic (and the horrifying thought he might not actually live to see Gracie ever again) down and gives Steve as quick a once-over as possible, checking for any other injuries while weighing the risks of moving him with the risks of not.

Seriously, _fuck_ whoever decided to build highways across this godforsaken island.

Bracing his feet against the center console, he manages to get Steve's arm over his shoulder only to find the stupid seatbelt catch is jammed.

There are grenades in the glove box. There are going to be _words had_ if they live through this.

Danny will not, however, be complaining about the knife, even if it is entirely overkill and more suited to gutting dinosaurs than seatbelts but hey, it gets the job done.

He's pretty sure Steve will forgive him for just letting it fall. It's hard enough to keep Steve's bulk (too many malasadas, brah) from sliding out the open door with two available hands.

Steve shifts, and this time it's not gravity, it's Steve waking up, and Danny pulls out his best Dad-slash-Boss-slash-Do-Not-Fuck-With-Me voice before Steve starts trying to break free.

"Steven, it's Danny. We were in a car accident. I need to you _not move_ until I tell you to and do _exactly what I say_."

He's never been so thankful the US military drilled obedience into Steve's head as he is right this very second when all Steve does is startle for a split second before grunting something like an affirmation.

Carefully, so very carefully, Danny pulls a groggy but cooperative Steve closer.

"Can you hold on? Good. Move your your foot up here. I'm going to open the door and get us out but I need you to _hold on_."

Steve slides his arms around Danny's torso and squeezes, weaker than Danny's ever felt him. Ignoring the pounding of his heart, Danny wraps his left arm tightly around Steve and with his right pulls the handle of his door and shoves with all his might.

Blessedly, the door slams open. Rain pours in, loud and warm, making Danny's grip on Steve slip as water soaks through their clothes in a matter of seconds.

"Steve, listen. I'm going to climb out and you're coming after me, got it?"

"D- Danno?" Steve asks, voice faint from where his face is smushed into Danny's neck.

Danny's heart wrenches.

"Yes, it's Danno. I'm here, I've got you. Hold on to my hand okay."

Steve threads his fingers with Danny's and nods, reluctantly letting his other hand go as Danny climbs out the dangerously vertical door.

Danny swings his legs out and over hoping and failing to hit concrete. Instead, he burns his shin on the underside of the truck.

Typical.

"Hey Steve. I promise you can make all the short jokes you want if you can help me out here. Can you climb up some?"

A moment later, Steve's head and shoulders come over the edge, giving Danny just enough length to touch the ground. A few moments after that, Danny's lying on his back on a wet Hawaiian highway with a dazed Steve sprawled across his chest and headlights glaring straight into his eyes.

Ten seconds after _that_ the final piece of cabling snaps and the whole truck whooshes over into nothingness in a scream of metal.

 

Duke walks over to where Danny and Steve are propped up on the bumper of an ambulance and doesn't say a word about the way Steve's hunched over Danny's shoulder without an inch of space between them.

He's always been Danny's favorite.

"We'll know more once we've got the truck but was there any indication this might have been more than just a popped tire?"

Danny looks down at Steve, who's strangely silent given his usual enthusiasm for life-endangering mayhem. The EMTs had pronounced him concussed and advised him to go to the hospital in what Danny was pretty sure was a speech they'd scripted specifically for Steve years ago, then had left Danny to do the convincing.

"So this is what it takes for you to leave things to the professionals, huh? A good knock to the head and dramatic rescue. Good to know." 

Sighing, Danny shrugs and turns back to Duke. "Nothing in particular, though earlier tonight we did cross paths with a recent suspect who wasn't exactly appreciative of his accommodations while he was in our custody. I wouldn't put it past him to have shoved a nail in a tire."

It only takes a few minutes to go over the case information because Danny actually keeps track of these things unlike his still strangely silent partner.

As Duke heads back to the other uniforms, Danny shudders and leans into Steve, the chaos and terror of the last hour or so finally beginning to break through. Desperately, he latches on to the first non-panic-inducing thought he has to stave it off.

Well, less panic-inducing.

"Well, that wasn't exactly how I'd imagined our first date going. Wait, what am I saying, this is _exactly_ how I imagined a first date with you going."

Steve jerks upright then wobbles. "Date?!"

"Uh, yeah. That's what this was, right? Don't tell me you finally came to your senses only to have them knocked back out before the night's even over."

"Um," Steve says, eloquently.

He looks, well, _dumbfounded_ is the only word Danny can think of. In any other situation Danny would relish the expression, but at the moment it's a little scary. A lot scary, even.

Worry and potential heartbreak are a dangerous mix.

"Actually, you know what? Let's save this conversation for when you haven't been smashed in the head with your own truck."

"I... okay," Steve says as he deflates, almost hesitant as he leans against Danny for support.

He's silent for a minute, then mumbles, barely audible. "Did you want it to be?"

Danny lets out a surprised bark of laughter and pulls Steve closer, leaving no room and no doubt as he rubs his hand up and down Steve's spine.

"Yes, you goof. Now let's get you home."

And when Steve practically melts at the touch, Danny's heart grows about five sizes.

"Okay, Danno, let's go."


End file.
